Late For Tea
by invisibly inked
Summary: It's tea time again. Alice isn't coming. The Hatter despairs. It'll always be the same o'clock.


**Title: Late for tea**

**Summary: It's tea time again. Alice isn't coming. The Hatter despairs. It'll always be the same o'clock.**

**notes: New obsession with Alice in Wonderland...don't judge.**

**Disclaimer: Officially disclaimed.**

It's six o'clock, tea time again. Around here the time doesn't change. It's always the same o'clock. Always tea time.

The Hatter sits at the end of the table; his eyes shaded by his hat, the Dormouse beside him, asleep while the March Hare ticks nervously, waiting for the Hatter to say _something._

He's been quiet for a while, glancing about and _looking _for something. For someone and the March Hare wonders who.

"She's late," the Hatter announces suddenly. "Pardon?" the March Hare says, obviously confused. "Alice," the Hatter clarifies, "She's late, _again_. Really you'd think she ought to know by now." The March Hare shares a nervous glance with the Dormouse who has woken up.

Alice hasn't been to Wonderland in nearly five years.

The Hatter is growing _**madder**_.

"But," the Hatter continues, "I guess we'll just have to start without her. And when she sees that we have started without her she'll be upset. Maybe _that _will teach her not to be late. Really, you'd think she'd picked up these habits from the White Rabbit." He reaches for a slice of bread and takes a bite. Dry. "Pass the butter, please," he says in a calm-almost-bored voice.

"Um," the March Hare begins, his bloodshot eyes wide, "It appears that there is no butter." The Hatter's face seems to change. "No... butter?" he repeats and the March Hare nods quickly in that nervous way of his. The Hatter looks up; neon green eyes wild and flashing.

The Hatter has gone _**mad**_**.**

"NO BUTTER? NO BUTTER! WHAT IS BREAD WITHOUT ANY BUTTER?" He yells and throws a chipped teacup the March Hare's way, but he only dodges it and takes the Hatter's moment of madness as an excuse to start throwing things himself. "WHY IS THERE NO BUTTER?" the Hatter continues (he throws a saucer, hitting the Dormouse in the head but he doesn't seem to take notice). He stands, waving his hands about and flailing madly. "WE SHOULD HAVE HATS FULL OF BUTTER! HATS FULL OF THE _BEST _BUTTER! THE ONLY WAY TO ENJOY BREAD IS WITH BUTTER! BUT—WE HAVE NO—BUTTER!"

The Dormouse blinks his dark-almost-black eyes and sighs sleepily. "March Hare isn't that the butter right there?" he asks and points to the small dish next to the twitching hare that blinks and grins sheepishly. "Oh, yes. I guess it is. Hatter! We have butter after all!" the March Hare announces excitedly.

The Hatter seems to calm down some, the madness fading from his eyes. He sits back in his chair. "Then pass it here would you?" he says and the March Hare does as told. The Hatter hums a tune as he spreads his butter on his bread, like everything is fine and he didn't just have a mad fit.

"But I do wish that Alice would hurry," he remarks, "I wonder if she's figured out the riddle yet…I really would like to know the answer. ' Why is a raven like a writing desk?' I bet the answer is something simple and yet I can't figure it out. But Alice is smart…perhaps she knows." The Hatter continues to eat his bread-with-butter. "Sing me a song March Hare. The song we sang to Alice, her first day here. I do love that song. Sing it to me please, March Hare."

The March Hare nods and opens his mouth to begin. "_Twinkle, twinkle little bat…"_ It's time for tea again, time for another tea party. The March Hare, the Dormouse and the Hatter are here. Alice isn't. "_How I wonder what you're at. Up above the world so high,_" the March Hare continues. It's always the same o'clock. Time doesn't do the Hatter any more favors so it's always the same time.

"_Like a tea tray in the sky…_" The Hatter glances at his watch and sighs. It's six o'clock; tea time again. The March Hare is singing. The Dormouse is snoring softly. Alice isn't coming. The Hatter despairs.

**notes1: um...review?**


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